The Mob Goes Wild
by shotgun named marcus
Summary: The Elephant Riders seek to make an alliance with the Sons of Anarchy. But none of the SOA men were expecting Harley Daniels. But then again, not a lot of people did. Jax/OC


**First story! Sons of Anarchy 3 I'm obsessed. Slow start, but I have everything planned out. And the chapters will get longer. Still not used to writing chapters rather then posts. I'm usually a roleplayer, but I wanted to give it a shot. Reviews and constructive criticism would be loved. Of course, I don't own SOA. I wish, but sadly, those handsome boys belong to Kurt Sutter. The title of the story and the MC's name belong to the wonderful band Clutch. Go check 'em out. They are featured on the soundtrack as well!**

Rain. It was coming down in buckets. Harley stood outside of the bar, leaning against the brick wall, wishing the rain would stop drowning her cigarette. She was officially put on welcoming wagon, not something she was particularly looking forward to. But Harley still stood, in the pouring rain, waiting to hear the familiar sound of bikes pulling up the curb. Waiting to met the fine gentlemen who probably wouldn't take her seriously, at least not at first. Not too many people too Harley Daniels seriously at first, maybe they were too distracted by the usual devious smirk she held on her face at all times, or the pair of tits in their face. Harley, herself, would put good money on the tits, men always acted like they had never seen a pair before. And in some cases that was true, but in most, it was just pervy old guys who couldn't keep it in their pants.

She was brought out of her musings hearing the sound of bikes. She glanced up, eying the cuts on the backs of these men. Harley pushed herself off of the wall, walking towards the group, shaking her strawberry locks from her face. She stood their for a minute, watching as they scrambled to get under the cover of the building. They didn't see her at first, but when they did, they looked slightly alarmed, and amused that a woman was greeting them. Harley wasted no time, approaching the oldest man, the man with President stitched into his cut. She held out a hand first, shaking his in a manner that would make her daddy proud. "Harley Daniels. Welcome Cypress Grove boys." She said, grinning almost devilishly at the men before her.

"Clay Morrow." The man introduced himself. He gave no explanation, there was no need. Harley knew who the Sons of Anarchy were. She knew why they were there. It was her idea, but they didn't know that. Not yet at least. Her eyes drifted to man beside Clay, long shaggy blonde hair, a beard trying to rival his hair length. She glanced down at his cut, unsurprised to see the VP stitching. She knew who Jackson Teller was, she knew who all of them were. With no further explanation from Clay, Harley gestured them to follow her inside, bypassing the bouncer with no word.

"Hope you don't mind a little entertainment before you get down to business." Harley said, leading them to a table in the far corner. She saw the smirk on the man she knew as Alexander Trager's face, and rolled her eyes. "And not that entertainment, sorry for the disappointment." She added as an after thought. She watched them all roam their eyes over her, taking in tight jeans, black boots, the white beater underneath a similar leather cut.

"Nice leather, sweetheart." Tig said with another cheeky sort of grin. "Your old man know you're wearing it?"

Harley made a face, resisting the urge to say something smart, instead pulling out an old tablet from her back pocket. "First two rounds are on the house. What do you want?" She chose to ignore the probing eyes of Trager, instead settling on the more intriguing ones of the vice president. Only a matter of time, she reminded herself writing down the drink orders as if she was some sort of menial waitress. She turned to walk away from the table, rolling her eyes heavily at one of the girls that passed her. The other girl, a blonde, grinned happily, pausing to ruffle Harley's hair. Harley snarled at her before hoping over the bar counter and grabbed various beers. With drinks in hand, she made her way back over to their table, setting the drinks down.

"Trey will be out after the band plays." She gestured to the little stage at the front of the bar where a couple of guys were setting up a drum kit and amps. "If you need anything else, call her." Harley pointed to a short brunette with an apron tied around her waist. As Harley turned to walk away, she felt a hand connect to her ass. She whipped her head around, glaring angrily at Trager again. She wanted to punch him, right in that stupid ass grin of his, but Harley forced a smile to her face, her eyes narrowed on his face. Harley didn't say anything, even though she wanted too. Instead she turned on her heel, stomping away. Her foot connected to a wooden bar stool, kicking it over furiously before seeking out her brother.

He wasn't hard to find, behind the stage, a beer bottle attached to his hand. "Our friends here yet?" He asked as soon as he caught sight of his little sister.

"Yeah. Sitting in the back corner. I think they brought their whole carter." Harley answered him, sitting down next to him, pulling out a much needed cigarette.

"Well, you didn't expect it to just be Clay? It has be a group decision Harls. You know how it works." He said, before downing the rest of his beer.

"Yeah, I know. Just not used to such a big group. We're a small MC compared to them." Harley mused, blowing the smoke from her mouth. Trey didn't say anything to that. It was one of the reasons they sought out the Sons of Anarchy. Not for a patch over, no. An alliance, forming a new brother hood, her brothers called it.

"They weren't expecting you, were they?" Trey laughed after a minute. Harley rolled her eyes, and shook her head. No one was ever expecting her. It's not everyday a person saw a motorcycle club being run by a woman. At least, co-ran. The vice president patch stood out on her cut, a patch that the men in the club had to learn to respect. She was the daughter of the founding member of the Elephant Riders. The sister of their president, a smart girl, she knew what she was doing with a great rack to boot. But not too many other MC's respected that. She had yet to run into another club that didn't give her shit, that didn't disrespect her in some way. Over the last two years as her run as Vice President, Harley learned to deal with it, she got used to it. Of course, it still pissed her off, but she didn't get worked up over it anymore. Long gone were the days were she punched people out over a disrespectful snort, a distasteful comment, touch. She took everything anyone said to her, at least concerning her spot as a VP with a grain of salt.

"Not at all. Trager, I think that his name, he slapped my ass and asked if my 'old man' knew I was wearing his cut." Harley snorted, shaking her head. She decided a long time ago that she would never be someone's 'old lady'. The title itself was demeaning, and it wasn't the place where Harley belonged. Even her father told her, she was above being someone's house wife. Harley had earned her place amongst the bikers of the MC. She knew how to run it, how to keep her guys out of trouble, she had a brain for this life style. She was born to be in a MC. Never an old lady.

"Did you hit him?" Trey asked skeptically, wary that his sister's attitude could possibly hurt any alliance, business relationship they would have with the Sons.

"Do I look stupid? Of course I didn't. Dumbass." Harley rolled her eyes, stamping out her cigarette pushing herself off the chair walking back to the stage, leaving her brother rolling his eyes behind her. "After the show, right?" She added as an afterthought, turning her head back to them.

"Yeah. Put on a show. Keep our visitors entertained." Trey grinned at her, laughing loudly when her middle finger gave him her response.

Harley stepped up to the mic, nodding briefly at the men behind her. Yeah, she'd put on a show, put on the best show that those boys had ever seen. The band started up, and with a mischievous grin, Harley let out a wail that shook the room. The guitar started up, and she felt a surge of confidence rock through her body. She would show them what she was worth. Harley Daniels would prove herself, whether anyone wanted her to or not.


End file.
